


The Case of the Tiny Invaders

by lilsherlockian1975



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bedbugs, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Sherlock To The Rescue, Smut, Tiny bit of Angst, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4054825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/pseuds/lilsherlockian1975
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly's got a problem and Sherlock decides it's a perfect opportunity to make up for all the times he caused her pain.  Sexy times and fluff... flustered Sherlock and a strong, confident Molly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Tiny Invaders

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this story is about bedbugs. I have worked in the hotel industry for almost twenty years and as a hotelier, bedbugs are something I'm far too familiar with. Listen to me when I say this: every hotel has or has had bedbugs. There are ways to keep from taking them home, but you have to be careful. I've been very lucky and never brought them home myself, but that's most likely because I've had so much experience with them. 
> 
> There isn't that much discussion about the bugs themselves... they make my skin crawl (so I avoided that.) If you have a fear of bugs this might bother you, however I have a huge fear of bugs myself and I managed to write it. 
> 
> Thanks go to MrsMCrieff for looking over this. She beta'd and Brit picked it (and as always, made me laugh!) 
> 
> I own nothing, enjoy.

* * *

Sherlock walked into the path lab looking for his favorite pathologist (and hopefully a spare spleen, if one happened to be available.) She was nowhere to be found. It was as quiet as the grave, he chuckled at his analogy, wishing he had been in the morgue when he thought of it. He was just outside her office when he heard a soft whimper; he knew immediately what it was. He had unfortunately heard Molly Hooper cry on more than one occasion.

 

After she had assisted him in his fake suicide, she spirited him back to her flat to lay low for several weeks to recover from his injuries. That first night she locked herself in her bedroom and sobbed for exactly thirty-six minutes. It was gut-wrenching for the usually detached detective. He wasn't use to feeling... well anything. But Molly Hooper wasn't supposed to be sad; she was the epitome of happiness and light. He was aware that he had made her cry in the past, one incredibly uncomfortable Christmas, to be specific. But she had never actually cried in front of him because of one of his cruel deductions or cutting remarks. Those weeks in her flat, however, he could hear her crying from behind the closed door of her room. She must have known he could hear her, she was a logical woman for heaven's sake, she just didn't seem to care. The stress of the situation, he decided, must have gotten the better of her. She cried that first evening, but not until she had tended to his wounds. She cried after his funeral and on several other occasions. One time she cried right in front of him, during a particularly nasty confrontation.

 

_“Sherlock,” she said coming out of the bathroom. “I'm going to be late tonight, so I left a casserole in the fridge. I wrote down directions on the dry-erase board.” She walked into her bedroom and grabbed a small tote bag then came back out to the sitting room. “Sherlock did you hear me?”_

 

_“Of course I heard you, this apartment is so small I can hear you breathing from your bedroom. Why are you going to be late?” he asked, finally glancing up from Molly's laptop. “Oh, a date really Molly? What's the point? Haven't you had enough disappointment in your life?” He'd gone back to furiously typing and hadn't noticed Molly flinch at his words._

 

_“I-I don't care what you say this time Sh-Sherlock, Jeremy's a nice m-man...”_

 

_“Ah, stuttering again. Two steps forward and three steps back, Molly.” Still not looking at her._

 

_So absorbed in his research, he failed to notice that her eyes were filling with tears. “Sh-Sherlock, pl-please don't.”_

 

_He looked up and his stomach dropped._

 

_“I've tried so h-hard you know, to be a good fr-friend. But you never even notice that I'm...” She stopped, taking a deep breath._

 

_Sherlock just sat there feeling like the worlds only consulting arsehole. He knew she was hurting and unable to talk to a living soul about it. He knew he was the cause of her pain, in more ways than one. He just had no idea how to fix it... not his area. “Molly, I'm...”_

 

_Somehow in that time Molly must have found her strength, because her stuttering came to an abrupt halt. “Don't!,” she interrupted. “I'm so tired Sherlock. I just want to go out with a man who finds me attractive and sees me as something other than a means to an end. That's all I'll ever be to you.” She wiped her face and picked up her keys and hand bag. “Please follow the directions and try not to burn down the flat.” Then she turned and left._

 

_Sherlock sat there feeling hollow and cold. She had risked everything for him, then opened her home to him, for what? He had verbally abused her and taken advantage of her kindness. It was suddenly all so clear. He couldn't stay any longer, it was unfair to her._

 

_He packed his things, leaving no trace of his presence in her flat. He wrote a note and left it on her nightstand._

 

**_Molly,_ **

**_I am sorry. You've been remarkable. You have done everything for me these past weeks and I've been a complete bastard. You deserved none of this. You will naturally feel guilty about my leaving. Don't. I need to get to work, and you need to get on with your life._ **

**_I will return, and will need your assistance once again. But please don't think you're just a means to an end Molly Hooper. I consider you a friend, even though I've never actually treated you as one. I will attempt to rectify that upon my return._ **

**_You now have a security detail, don't be alarmed. It's for your protection. Don't go out with Jeremy again, he has a criminal record. Mycroft will be screening your dates in my absence. Live well Molly._ **

**_S_ **

 

When Sherlock returned to the land of the living, it was to a stronger, more willful Molly Hooper. She no longer stuttered in his presence. She also didn't take one ounce of his guff (not that he was giving her much anymore.) She had a fiancé and more confidence than he could have ever imagined seeing in the small, doe eyed woman. She was amazing. The new and improved Molly was both wonderful and terrifying at the same time. The events that followed his return didn't allow him to give too much thought as to why he was so frightened by Molly's personality changes. He just pushed it away, not a difficult task for a mind such as his.

 

Molly's tears brought Sherlock back to the present. She was different, but so was he. He no longer had any tolerance for the sadness of Molly Hooper. He had secretly vowed he'd never see her unhappy again. After some missteps - getting high, having a fake relationship, getting shot and sent (albeit briefly) into exile - okay, maybe more like huge mistakes rather than missteps... but he was trying, trying to be a good friend. He wasn't the same Sherlock Holmes that sat in her lounge and listened to her sob, doing nothing about it.

 

He walked into her office to find her sitting with her head on her desk. “Molly,” he said. “Molly, what's wrong?”

 

She sat up grabbing a tissue to clean her face. “Oh, Sherlock. Um, it's nothing. I'll figure out something. It's just...” She paused and shook her head. “No-no, I'm not telling about this. You'll find it ridiculous and irrational and I can't deal with that right now. So, please just let me be.”

 

“Molly? I'd like to try.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Unless it's a woman thing?”

 

She shot him a dirty look. “No Sherlock, not every problem I have is a _woman problem_.” She took a deep breath and seemed to consider him for a moment, then finally gave in. “I went to a conference in Birmingham and I brought back... fr-friends!” She broke down into another sob.

 

Sherlock was even more confused. “Molly, I still have no idea what you are talking about.”

 

“I have bed bugs Sherlock! Awful, disgusting, blood-sucking parasites, living in my home. In my bed, my clothes, my settee, my chairs! They're probably on me right now!” She had started scratching her head, neck and chest uncontrollably.

 

Sherlock ran to her and grabbed her hands before she hurt herself. “Molly, you have to get control of yourself. How bad is it? Have you called an exterminator?”

 

She nodded. “It's going to cost a fortune Sherlock, and that's just for the extermination. I'll have to replace my mattress and furniture, maybe my clothes.” She tried to jerk out of his grasp, presumably to start scratching once again.

 

“Molly, stop! It's okay. Let me take care of this,” he said looking directly into her eyes.

 

“Why in God's name would you take care of this. It's my fault.” She looked at him like he was insane.

 

“No it's not. It's the hotel's fault. I assume Barts booked the hotel for you.”

 

She nodded.

 

“Well then it's in no way your fault. But please, stop scratching yourself.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Let me see your arms Molly.” She was wearing her lab coat.

 

Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head.

 

“Molly...” he said in a warning tone.

 

She huffed and shrugged off her coat. She was wearing a short sleeved button-up blouse. Her arms were covered in angry, red scratches.

 

“Oh, Molly.” He gently touched her arms.

 

“I can't take it Sherlock. Not many things frighten me, you know that. But these little buggers have me completely freaked out.” She started crying once again.

 

She was right about not being easily frightened. She had handled Moriarty's reappearance with grace and dignity. He was quite proud of her. She he changed so much in the last three years, grown and strengthened beautifully. Suddenly Sherlock was struck with the unimaginable urge to embrace Molly Hooper... so that's what he did. He pulled her close and held her tight. “It's going to be fine. I'll get rid of these little buggers for you, Molly.”

 

She didn't move away, just tucked in closer. “Why are you being so nice to me, Sherlock?”

 

“Because you're Molly, you're my pathologist and you saved my life. Also because a bunch of tiny, blood-sucking parasites have invaded my favorite bolt-hole.” She giggled, which made Sherlock's chest fill with warmth (to be examined later.)

 

He pulled her back and wiped the tears off of her cheeks. “You'll stay with me while this is being dealt with, okay?”

 

She nodded.

 

“I have to go take care of some things, but I'll be back at the end of your shift.”

 

She nodded again. Then he leaned in and kissed her forehead (more warmth in his chest, again, to be examined later.) He studied her face, she looked much more like his Molly... _his? Never mind... work to do_.

 

The case of the tiny invaders, John would call it.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock called an exterminator, Molly was right, it was expensive and would take several treatments to be effective. Then he headed to Molly's flat to retrieve her beloved cat. No point in fumigating Toby in the process. He considered picking up some clothes for her, but like she said... they were everywhere.

 

He eyed the flat suspiciously, half expecting to overrun by tiny insects. He found Toby and (after a small skirmish) persuaded him to go into his carrier.  Evidently the don't take up residence on living things (according to the exterminator.) He then went into her bathroom, he grabbed her contact case, toothbrush and birth control. Sherlock Holmes was nothing if not thorough. He stepped into her bedroom and looked at her bed, knowing it was the source of the majority of her discomfort made him even more angry. He picked up her glasses and iPad. Deciding that was about all he could safely take from the infested flat, he shoved everything into a Tesco bag he had brought with him, picked up Toby's carrier and left.

 

After taking everything to 221B he called his brother. He hated calling in favors, but in this case he felt quite justified.

 

“Did someone break your thumbs?” Mycroft answered.

 

“Molly's got bed bugs,” Sherlock replied.

 

“Are we starting a gossip circle?”

 

Sherlock huffed. “Let's try it this way. I need your assistance with Molly's problem.”

 

“Shall I come over with a can of bug spray?”

 

“Mycroft...” Sherlock warned.

 

“What do you want from me brother dear, do be specific. I was about to go into a meeting with the Minister of Defense.”

 

“You were about to have tea and crumpets. Don't you think we owe her Mycroft? Her assistance was invaluable during my... situation.”

 

“I did offer her compensation Sherlock, she refused,” Mycroft said.

 

“What?”

 

“Of course, a Holmes' always pay his debts.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “That's a _Lannister_ Mycroft.”

 

They both paused knowing they had been caught being aware of a pop culture reference.

 

Sherlock cleared his throat. “She turned it down? Well I need it. She's quite upset about having to replace all of her things. Either give me the money she was offered or give me access to my trust fund so I can replace them.”

 

“Fine, I took the money out of your trust fund anyway,” Mycroft said with a chuckle. “Give me an hour.”

 

“Enjoy your crumpets.” Sherlock rang off.

 

* * *

 

Molly and Sherlock arrived back at Baker Street later that night after a nice dinner at Angelo's. He knew he had nothing in and that Molly could use a glass or two of wine to calm her nerves after her harrowing insect experience. He was practically glowing with pride; feeling like he was doing such a fine job at this friend business.

 

“I laid out something for you to sleep in Molly. It's on my bed. Your toothbrush, contact case and birth control are in the bathroom,” he said as he went into the kitchen to make tea.

 

“You got my b-birth control?” she asked.

 

“Yes. I also got your glasses and tablet. I decided against any clothing though. Didn't want to invite your 'friends' over here, as it were.” He turned to see that she was blushing. “Molly, you're a thirty-four year old woman. Tell me you're not embarrassed that I picked up your oral contraceptive. I was already aware that you were taking it.”

 

Molly cleared her throat. “Of course you were. Where's Toby?” she asked, changing the subject.

 

“He shot out of the carrier like a bat out of hell when we arrived this afternoon. I had Billy go buy a cat litter tray and the other essentials.” He finished making the tea. “Check my bedroom or in the bathroom, that's where I had him set everything up.”

 

Molly turned and started down the hall, calling for her feline. She must have found him, because Sherlock heard her suddenly talking in a high-pitched voice saying things like: _I'm so sorry little man, you poor thing, mummy loves you_. He shook his head and sat down in his chair and opened his email on his phone.

 

Ten minutes later Molly emerged from Sherlock's bedroom wearing a pair of his pajamas, the legs and sleeves rolled up. She was also wearing her glasses. He internally scolded himself for thinking she looked adorable.

 

“I look ridiculous,” she said holding her arms wide, the clothing swallowing her up.

 

Sherlock laughed. “A bit.”

 

“I have no clothes. What am I going to do about work, Sherlock?”

 

“I just sent Mike an email requesting four day’s holiday for you,” he said.

 

“What? You requested holiday for me? You can't do that. He won't accept a request from you, simply because you're... Sherlock Holmes.” She waved her arms at him.

 

His phone dinged, he looked down at it. “He just approved them.”

 

“I don't... I mean... Why would he...?” she stammered. “Oh never mind.” She sat down in John's chair. “I still need clothes, I can't live in your pj's. And why four days? How long will the extermination take?”

 

“Didn't you ask when you called?”

 

“Yes, I think I did,” she said looking at the wall. “I can't really remember what they said.”

 

“This has actually traumatized you hasn't it? Being hunted by James Moriarty, didn't phase you. But a flat full of small...”

 

“Okay,” she interrupted. “I don't want to talk about them. Just tell me what it will cost and you can take care of the details, if it's really something you want to do.”

 

“Actually, I'm taking care of the cost as well.”

 

“Like hell you are.”

 

He eyed her cautiously. “Molly, this is going to cost quite a bit of money. I spoke with my brother today and found out that you refused the money he offered you after faking me death. That wasn't smart. You don't have a lot of savings; as a matter of fact I imagine taking care of this problem will wipe you out. So, allow me to fix this for you, please.”

 

She was fuming, he could tell. He had anticipated some resistance, but not anger. She usually couldn't resist it when said please. This time it didn't seem to work.

 

“I'm not a charity case Sherlock. I didn't tell you about my problem so you could sweep in with your _Holmes fortune_ and treat me like a damsel in distress.”

 

Sherlock laughed. “Is that how you think I see you Molly?”

 

Molly's face fell. “Sometimes, I wonder how you see me Sherlock.” She got up and started for the hallway, but Sherlock was too fast for her. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around.

 

“What the...” she started.

 

“Listen to me. I just want to help you,” he said, his face far closer than he had intended. “You've been so good to me and... I just wanted to...” He was losing his train of thought, she was so close, he could smell her shampoo and body wash and something else that was just so... Molly. “I- ah... want to do this, okay. Please allow me.” He finally let her go, though she didn't retreat. They both kept their positions.

 

Molly nodded her head and released a breath she seemed to have been holding. “Okay Sherlock, if it's important to you to save me from the tiny invaders from Birmingham, then... fine.” She smiled.

 

“Good,” he said taking a step back. “You take my room, I'll sleep out here.”

 

“What about John's old room?” she asked.

 

“There's no bed and it's filled with boxes,.”

 

“I'm not sleep...” she started.

 

“No more arguments tonight Molly... please,” he snapped. He realised he was slightly out of breath, though he had no idea why.

 

She nodded.

 

“I'll just go get my things and the room will be yours.” As he walked to his room, he wondered why he was feeling so warm.

 

* * *

 

The next day, after only a small amount of grumbling, Molly left with Sherlock's bank card to buy some new clothes. Mrs. Hudson had happily washed her clothes from the previous day and made the pair breakfast. Sherlock was once again feeling proud of himself for helping his pathologist in her hour of need. Two hours after she left John showed up, no doubt seeking time away from four month old Amelia. His goddaughter was an amazing thing, but he could understand John's need to get away from time to time.

 

Twenty minutes into his visit, Toby made an appearance.

 

“Um, Sherlock. Is that a cat?” John asked.

 

“Nothing gets past you John Watson. Perhaps we should switch jobs.”

 

“Why do you have a cat, Sherlock?”

 

“I don't, Molly does,” Sherlock said, knowing he was avoiding John's question, but he couldn't help goading the man. It was so easy.

 

“Have you catnapped Molly Hooper's pet to get her to do something for you?”

 

Sherlock gave John his signature _you're an idiot look_ , then got up to refill his tea. “No John, of course not. She is staying here while her flat is being fumigated.”

 

John followed him into the kitchen. “You could have just said that from the beginning.”

 

“And where's the fun in that?” Sherlock said with a slightly evil grin.

 

“What's being fumigated?” John asked as he made his tea.

 

“Bedbugs, she brought them back from a conference in Birmingham. Don't bring it up to her, she's very... squeamish about the whole thing. I'll not have you upsetting my pathologist.”

 

“I won't, I'm better about not upsetting Molly than you are, thank you very much,” John said sitting down with a fresh cup of tea. “Your pathologist though?”

 

“Yes. Problem with that?” Sherlock said peering over his tea cup.

 

“I don't care what you call her, just so long as it's not insulting. But, _your_?”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I know where your mind is, and it belongs elsewhere. Molly Hooper is a friend, a good friend. She saved my life, I owe her. This last year... I let her down. I let you all down, but at least I was able to somewhat make it up to you and your family. Molly, I'm afraid...” He drifted off, looking into the distance.

 

“Hey, I think she's forgiven you mate. She seems fine. You two... I mean... Everything's fine, isn't it?” John finally managed to ask.

 

Sherlock took a deep breath and looked at his friend. “It's more than that John, I...”

 

Just then Molly walked in with bags in hand. “John,” she said, putting her bags down next to the settee. “Nice to see you today. How are the girls?”

 

John stood up and gave her a welcoming hug. “Oh, they're wonderful.” He looked over at her bags. “Been shopping?”

 

“Ah, yeah.” She looked at Sherlock. “Just, ah, needed a few things.”

 

An awkwardness settled into the room.

 

“He told you didn't he? He told you about my little friends?” she asked, with her hands on her hips.

 

“Well, I saw the cat and...” John started.

 

Molly shivered. “It's so gross.” She started scratching at her head.

 

Sherlock noticed and calmly walked over and picked up one of her bags. “So, what did you buy?”

 

Molly turned and snatched the bag out of his hands. “Not that one, Sherlock. That one has...”

 

“Oh. Sorry.” He actually blushed, or it felt like he was blushing.

 

John cleared his throat. “Well I better get back to my ladies,” he said with an awkward laugh, then he kissed Molly on the cheek and made his exit.

 

“Molly, there are only three bags here. You couldn't have bought much.”

 

“Well I won't need much. I was thinking, and not all of my clothes will be bugged, right?” she asked looking at Sherlock with hope in her eyes.

 

“I don't know. I suppose that's a question for the exterminator. I'm meeting him in the morning, he didn't have any time today. Evidently you're not the only person in London with this sort of problem.”

 

“I like my clothes Sherlock. I don't want to have to replace everything and I don't want to spend more of your money than is absolutely necessary.”

 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. “Don't you understand that I want to do this for you?” he asked stepping closer to her.

 

“I do, but that doesn't make me comfortable with it. I- I...” She looked away and took a deep breath. “Sherlock, why are you really doing this? Do you think I'm still upset about everything that's happened? We talked, I'm fine- we're fine.”

 

She put her hand on his arm, he assumed for emphasis, but it instantly made Sherlock feel warm and tingly. His instinct was to pull away, but he knew that would upset her. Since that option was off the table, he allowed it.

 

“That's not why I'm doing it,” he explained.

 

“Are you repaying me for the Fall?” She tightened her grip on his arm and stepped closer.

 

He had to concentrate on his answer; his mind was starting to do strange things, foreign things. Well, not completely foreign, just long forgotten. “Molly, I told you, I'm just trying to be a good friend.” He managed with some difficulty.

 

She smiled. “You don't have to try Sherlock, we are fine,” she said, squeezing his arm with each of the last three words. She finally released his arm and he instantly missed it. “Don't worry, I won't tell a soul how sweet you've been through all of this. I wouldn't want to ruin your international reputation.” She winked and picked up her bags, then turned and walked away.

 

Sherlock exhaled deeply and sat down on the settee. _What the hell was that_ , he thought. He decided he needed to start going over some of the to be examined later file in Molly's room in his mind palace. He was about to take a nice relaxing trip into said palace, when he heard the shower start up. _Yes, of course... Molly's bathing. Sure. No big deal. Just Molly showering._ She'd showered dozens of times when he had stayed with her. Sherlock closed his eyes realising that his mind palace suddenly seemed miles away. He jumped up from the settee and started pacing around the room. How did concern for his friend's well-being suddenly turn into wanting to bend her over his kitchen table... _what the_...?

 

_Okay, so Molly's proximity is suddenly causing some unexpected reactions. I can deal with this, he thought. I've dealt with this before... haven't I?_

 

A voice that sounded like suspiciously John Watson's, responded to his question. _Well actually, last time you got a funny feeling in your man bits, you ran off to Karachi to rescue a ego maniacal dominatrix. Then the two of you..._

 

_Right, right. But that was different. Once it was over, it was over. I said goodbye and she went to find a new target. Molly... well, she's Molly. I can't want to do those things to Molly- with Molly. She'd... What the hell am I going to do?_

 

_Sorry mate, she's your problem. I'm just your mind's approximation of your best friend. I can't tell you how to get your pathologist into bed._

 

_I don't want to get Molly into bed._

 

 _You better tell junior that. He seems to have different plans._ His mind's John chuckled at his own joke, he suddenly had the urge to punch himself.

 

_Go away, you're not helping._

 

Evidently he said this out loud, because he looked up to see a confused and slightly alarmed Molly Hooper standing just inside the sitting room. Her hair was wet and she was wearing new clothes. Awful clothes, but new ones. Once again, he thought she looked adorable. He sighed, _I've never used that word before in my life, suddenly it's the most descriptive word I can come up with._

 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

 

“Ah, I'm fine. Why would you ask?” _Because you were talking to yourself, you idiot_ , mind John said.

 

 _Why is he allowed to comment outside of the mind palace? He's breaking all kinds of rules right now,_ Sherlock thought.

 

Sherlock was lost in thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to get John back where he belonged, when he felt Molly's hand on his forehead.

 

“You're a bit warm,” she said. “And you don't look well Sherlock. Will you sit down for me?” She looked concerned.

 

He was still a bit disorientated from _wandering John_ , so he let her take his hand and lead him to the settee. Once there she held his face in her hands, looking deep into his eyes. Some part of him knew she was checking for dilation, but he smiled at the closeness.

 

“Sherlock, your pupils are dilated. Did you hit your head while I was in the shower?” she asked holding onto one of his hands.

 

He closed his eyes and sighed. _Shit._ “No, ah... I-I didn't.”

 

“Well, what on earth is going on? Your cheeks are flushed too.”

 

He licked his lips and tried to think of something to explain his current state.

 

“Should I call John?” she asked.

 

“Oh no, no please ah, don't!” he rushed out. “I'm fine, just ah...”

 

“Sherlock, I've literally never heard you sound so inarticulate in my life. And that includes the day you jumped off of a four story building. Now either tell me what's going on, or I'm calling John.” She stood up and started for her mobile.

 

He grabbed her hand. “ **I like you!** ” he sort of screamed at her.

 

“I like you too, that's why I'm calling John, so he can come see what the hell is going on with you right now.” She tried to jerk out of his grasp.

 

Panic was really setting in now. If he was going to have to deal with this, it wasn't going to include that smug arsehole John Watson, he had had enough of him today (even if it was just his imagination.) He pulled Molly closer to him until she was flush with his body. She was, not surprisingly, quite shocked.

 

“Sherlock, what's gotten into you?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God, you're high! You promised! I can't believe you did this again!”

 

“I'm not high Molly. I'm- I'm... attracted to you.” As he said it he heard his own desperation in the statement and it made his gut churn.

 

“What?” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't allow it. “Now I know you're high!”

 

“Damn it! Think, think about the signs.” He watched her and let the words sink in.

 

Molly stood there, staring at him. He could tell she was processing everything, trying to decide if he needed to piss in a cup. After what felt like three or four... days, but was actually only about two minutes. Molly relaxed.

 

“You're attracted to... me?”

 

He nodded and released her, she backed away just a bit.

 

“And...?”

 

He shook his head. “I don't really know what to do now. I only just realised it. Although... looking back it all makes perfect sense. I suspect it's been there far longer, hasn't it?” He looked around the room as he thought about how he had felt since his return. He nodded his head as everything started clicking into place. _Oh, yes... that's what that feeling was,_ he thought. The realisation was quite similar to the rush he got when he solved a big case, only this was just the beginning. But the beginning of what? He looked at Molly, who looked incredible confused and a tiny bit frightened. “I'm s-sorry Molly. If I had had more time to process this, I would have told you... well, I'm not sure how I would've told you, as I've never done this sort of thing before. I have no idea how you feel. As a matter of fact, I imagine you no longer hold any romantic notions about me whatsoever. I fear I may have killed those years ago.”

 

He looked at the floor feeling like an utter fool. This was the one of the many problems with sentiment... rejection. He could feel the constriction in his chest and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that his cheeks were once again bright pink. Then it dawned on him that he'd not only embarrassed himself, but most likely ruined a dear friendship. His self-pity was interrupted when a pair of bare feet suddenly appeared in his line of sight. He looked up to see Molly Hooper's face. She was smiling, but her lovely cheeks were wet with tears.

 

“Oh God, I made you cry. I vowed I'd never do that again,” he said reaching out for her.

 

She beat him to it. She took one of his hands in hers. “When did you make that vow?”

 

He swallowed hard. He hated vulnerability. He hated feeling out of control. He hated admitting a failure. But in was in deep now. “When I stayed with you, after the fall, you cried all the time, and I did nothing but make it worse.” He looked down at their joined hands. “I... didn't know how to fix it. All I ever did was hurt you.” He looked back up. “Now look at me; a fool begging for affection.”

 

“You've killed nothing Sherlock Holmes. My notions are just fine, thank you very much,” she said looking at him so intensely he thought it might burn him. “Besides, you saved me from those tiny arseholes, I owe my hero. Isn't that how this works?” she giggled.

 

Sherlock still felt quite overwhelmed, but it was quickly being replaced with an excitement that almost unnerved him. Molly's eyes were sparkling and her cheeks flushed. She was gently stroking his knuckles with her thumb. Her smile was bright enough to light up half of a hemisphere. It was now or never. This would change everything. But he had already managed that, hadn't he?

 

“Molly,” he said as he brought his free hand up to cup her face and wipe off a stray tear. “I'm going to kiss you now. I'm not sure if I'll be able to stop once I start, so it would be best to voice any concerns at this time.”

 

She giggled. “I have no concerns about you kissing me Sherlock, just get on with it.”

 

That's all he needed. The buildup had been too much, he would have liked to have taken it all slower but as soon as Molly's lips touched his, he watched as the word _slower_ deflated like a balloon in his brain. It was for the best, at the moment he didn't have room for silly things like words.

 

He cupped the back of Molly head with one hand the tightly gripped her hip with the other. Their lips fit together like they were made for each other; he suddenly wondered what other body parts would fit so well. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down slightly, this caused Molly to emit a soft whine and bury her hands into his hair. Sherlock plunged his tongue into her mouth without preamble and lost what little control he had managed to hold.

 

He quickly walked her until her back was against the wall next to the kitchen, pinning her firmly against him. They took a breath here and there, but never parted for more than a split second. While his tongue inspected every nook and cranny of her mouth, his hands dipped underneath the edge of her painfully awful tee-shirt. It had a surly looking cat wearing a shower cap and the quote 'I don't do Mondays' on it. It must have been irresistible to her. He stroked her skin and pulled her closer to his hips.

 

Molly was quite busy herself, tugging at his hair and scraping her nails at his scalp. _Oh, God... don't stop_ , he thought. Then he moaned and she pulled a little harder. _Oh good, I think she got the point._ He moved his lips down to her long neck, licking and nibbling as he went. Molly cooed and gasped as he worked the flesh between his teeth. He knew he was leaving a mark; he just couldn't manage to care enough to stop, not when Molly had dipped her head to his shoulder and bit him through his oxford shirt.

 

He distantly heard Molly say something, but he had just managed to get his hands on her lovely bum, that was somehow both firm and soft at the same time, so he had to ask her to repeat it.

 

“Bedroom, you're making me all wobbly Sherlock,” she panted out.

 

It finally registered what she was requesting and he reluctantly pulled away. Oh, good God the sight of her. Her eyes were almost black, she was completely flushed and sporting an impressive love bite on the left side of her neck. Without speaking a single word he took her hand and practically sprinted the seven steps to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He watched as she stood next to his bed absently playing with the hem of her shirt. He licked his lips, she mimicked his action. The air crackled with electricity.

 

As slowly as he could, Sherlock approached Molly. She backed up until the backs of her knees touched the bed. He wondered for a moment, as he observed her, how he could have denied himself Molly Hooper for so long. Her breathing was ragged and she was biting her lower lip. Does she know that that's driving me mad, he wondered.

 

He bent down to capture her lips in another breathtaking kiss and her hands went to his buttons immediately, and before he knew it his shirt was opened and she was pushing it off of his shoulders. It got caught on his wrists, causing them both to giggle. He took care of his cuffs and tossed the shirt across the room. When he looked back at Molly she had a devilish gleam in her eyes.

 

She grabbed the hem of her tee-shirt and yanked it over her head, throwing it over to land on his shirt. Standing in only her bra and jeans, she planted her hands on her hips and asked, “So, still think I'm compensating?”

 

Sherlock could only smile and attach his mouth to her already hardened nipple through the material of her bra. Molly sank her hands into his hair and laughed, which turned into a moan as he bit down. It wasn't enough; he wanted more- needed more. He raised up and reached behind her, unfastening her bra. She looked a little surprised that he had managed it so easily. He just raised an eyebrow.

 

“You've done that before,” she said slightly breathlessly.

 

“Ah,” he said as he pushed her down to sit on the edge of the bed. “I see you bought into some of the many rumors surrounding my orientation and chastity.”

 

Molly chuckled as Sherlock knelt in front of her, placing wet kisses down her chest. “I never believed anything about you and John. I also didn't for a minute think you were a virgin. I'm just impressed that you handled the bra so well, most men have issues with them.”

 

He leaned up kissing her neck ending at her ear. “Am I most men, Molly Hooper?”

 

She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him hard, pulling him up to lie on top of her as she reclined on the bed. He gladly obliged, reveling in the feeling of her breast pressing up into his chest. They lay like that for a while, just kissing and touching. Molly raking her hands up and down the planes of his back, Sherlock palming her breasts in turn. Sherlock was grinding his erection into her centre. After a particularly adventurous thrust, Molly tossed her head back and cursed.

 

“Now, I want you now Sherlock!” she said, frantically unbuttoning his trousers.

 

Sherlock stood up and removed the rest of his clothing as Molly shimmied out of her jeans. She started to reach for her knickers until Sherlock realised what she was doing and reached for her hands.

 

“Allow me,” he said as he slowly worked them down her smooth legs.

 

He rejoined her on the bed, positioning himself slightly to the side. He danced his hands across her hip, then down a little further until he found what he was looking for. She spread her legs and smiled at him. He dipped a finger between her moist folds and she bucked up, just a bit.

 

“I have no condoms Molly, I didn't exactly plan this.” He closed his lips around her nipple as he continued to toy with her opening.

 

“I know you didn't, but I did.” she said breathlessly.

 

He looked up. “What?”

 

“I've tested you several times since your 'for a case' incident. Remember when I insisted on a blood test?”

 

He nodded.

 

“I checked for STI's. You're clean. So am I.”

 

Sherlock's hand had ceased it's movements, he was frozen in shock. He didn't know what to say.

 

Molly actually rolled her eyes. “I had a feeling, okay. I thought you might eventually come to this... realisation. You've been acting... differently since, well for a while now.”

 

He couldn't believe it, she’d done it again... deduced him. He felt her move under his hand, trying to get some friction. He couldn't let this go without some punishment. “You knew I was attracted to you? When were you going to let me in on this little gem, doctor?” He flicked her clit at the end of the question.

 

“Oh fuck, Sherlock! Come on... you...” He gave her a few more flicks. “Ahh, had to figure, oh... shit, it out on your own.” Then he dipped his fingers into her entrance. “Oh... God... and I wasn't completely... ahh, sure.”

 

He smiled just before he kissed her, he really didn't deserve her... that didn't mean he wouldn't take her anyway. He removed his fingers and moved over top of her. “Shall we?”

 

“God yes!” she hissed as he slowly entered her.

 

He lowered his head to her clavicle to try to calm himself and keep from ending it before it really began. _Amazing... perfect_ , he thought.

 

“Yes, it is,” Molly said into his shoulder, that's when Sherlock realised he had spoken the words, not just thought them. “Please, Sherlock, please move.”

 

He leaned up and looked down at Molly. Her bright, pleading eyes stared right back up at him. He moved ever so slowly, and she moved with him, bringing her hips up to meet his thrusts. They found their rhythm quickly as he hitched her legs up over his hip. He kissed her neck and chest, begging his treacherous body to hold on until she found her release. Molly's nails were digging into his shoulders and he was holding on by a very small thread. He felt Molly start to move her hand between them, _oh no no no_... that was his job. He batted it away and started to rub her clit in small circles.

 

It had never felt like this before, admittedly his experience was somewhat limited, but this was not what he had expected from his friend- his... Molly. She had been so many things to him throughout the years, and now she was his lover. It felt like making the greatest deduction of all time. It felt like solving every case he'd ever had all at once.... no, it felt better. It felt like he belonged, like he belonged to someone. _What is this_ , he thought for only a moment, and then...

 

Her orgasm took him completely by surprise. Suddenly what was once simply tight and hot, became a vice, pulling him down with her. He couldn't hold off any more. Sherlock was vaguely aware of Molly calling out his name along with a string of curses. He could feel her nails buried into his arms but all he could focus on was the blankness of his mind, and the perfection of this moment. He lost himself, as wave after wave pure bliss washed over him.

 

He finally came back to himself and realised he had collapsed on top of Molly Hooper. “Shit!” He rolled to the side.

 

Molly giggled and he looked over at her. She looked amazing... drenched in sweat, hair going every which way, lips red and swollen. Her breasts were bouncing slightly as she giggled.

 

“What you laughing about?” Sherlock asked.

 

“You screamed _shit_ in my face. You're lucky I know you so well. I could have misinterpreted that little maneuver.” She held her belly as she laughed again.

 

“I was afraid I was hurting you,” he defended.

 

“I know why you said it, Sherlock.” She rolled over and tucked herself into her chest. “But that doesn't make it not funny.” She kissed his shoulder.

 

He brought his arm up around her and held her tight. It felt so natural... _odd that_. They stayed like that for several minutes. He'd never felt so much utter contentment in his entire life. Molly started to move but he tightened his grip.

 

“I need another shower,” she said wrinkling her nose, looking even more adorable if it was possible. “And so do you.”

 

“Don't go.”

 

She gave Sherlock a cheeky smile. “Clearly I need to introduce you to the wonders of shower sex,” she said with a giggle.

 

Sherlock didn't laugh. “No, I mean... don't go... ever.”

 

Molly sat up in bed. “What are you saying?”

 

 _What am I saying? Shit!_ Sherlock didn't always think before he spoke, but evidently sex made this trait even worse. “Um... I mean, you don't want to move back into that bug infested flat. Stay with me. Here with me.” _God, is that what I want? I just keep saying things. Why can't I stop?_

 

“Sherlock, let the endorphins wear off first,” she said just before getting out of bed, turning to him after picking up her tee-shirt she said, “You'll be rethinking that request after you've come down a bit.” She retreated into the bathroom.

 

Soon he heard the shower start up and he wondered if she was right. It made sense. Sexual release can have a powerful effect on hormone levels, and obviously his brain activity had been affected. Perhaps he had been hasty... _wait. No._ That feeling. He wanted it again. He felt differently around Molly and had since his return, he'd just been pushing it away. No, this is what he wanted and he wasn't about to let little Molly Hooper, no matter how new and improved, tell him otherwise.

 

He got up, didn't bother with dressing, and marched into the bathroom. She shrieked as he ripped the shower curtain back. “It's not endorphins, doctor. I want you. I want you to live here,” he said in a deep and demanding voice.

 

Molly watched him with wide eyes for several moments. Then she rinsed the soap off of her body. She turned off the taps and smiled at Sherlock. “Hand me a towel please?”

 

He picked up the towel from the edge of the sink and handed it to her. She calmly dried herself off, barely glancing at him the entire time. Finely finished she wrapped herself up and held her hand out to the still slightly furious (and now admittedly confused) man. He helped her step out of the tub.

 

She leant against the sink and crossed her arms over her chest. “You're naked. Did you realise that?”

 

He never broke his gaze. “Of course.”

 

“So right now- with you naked and me in a towel- is, in you estimation, the best time for us to have this conversation?”

 

He finally allowed himself a moment to think before he answered, but it mattered not. “Yes,” he said crossing his arms over his bare chest.

 

“Okay, fine. We talk. You aren't just a little bit concerned that your,” She thought for a moment. “invitation, was a bit premature? We just had sex for the first time. You're feeling, well... feelings all of a sudden. Perhaps you should consider this a bit longer.”

 

Sherlock huffed. “What's to consider, Molly? We've known each other for almost eight years. We've been colleagues, we've been flat mates, we've been partners in crime, and most importantly we've been friends. I won't be told what I want and don't want. If you don't want to live here then tell me now, I know I've been...” He trailed off, suddenly feeling less than confident and wishing for his suit (and possibly his Belstaff as well.) “I've not always treated you as you deserved. But it can't have gone without notice that I have tried to rectify my former behavior.” He looked down at the floor trying to find the right words. “I've never felt like this before. I only know that I don't want to stop feeling like this.” He looked up at the end of his statement.

 

Molly smiled. “What is _this_ Sherlock?” she asked her eyes searching his.

 

He knew what she was asking, and he knew he had the answer... but... instead of answering he licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Just a moment, please?” he said as he put his hands on either side of his head. His mind palace could help, couldn't it? _No._ He moved his hands. He didn't need a trip into his mind palace to show him what was right in front of him. He must have been thinking or 'buffering' (as John lovingly called it) longer than he thought, because finally Molly walked up to him.

 

She took him by the shoulders. “Hey, I won't lose you again. Do you hear me?” She moved one hand up to his face and gently stroked his cheek. “I just don't want you to do something that you'll regret. We've come so far. I could live with having made love to you and keeping our friendship. But I couldn't live without you.” She smiled lovingly at him.

 

That's when the words finally came. “I don't want to live without you either Molly. Not at all.” He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her to him. “I want to do experiments with you and tell you about my cases. I want to take care of you and let you take care of me. I want to make love to you Molly, and wake up next to you every morning.” She had started crying right around the _take care of you_ business. “Once again, you're crying.”

 

Molly nodded her head. “Get used to it. Just because you don't cry doesn't mean no one else does.”

 

“I don't like it when you cry. And I've cried... before,” he said lovingly stroking her back.

 

“Fake crying for a case doesn't count Sherlock,” she giggled.

 

He moved back and looked into her eyes. “I'm not impervious to emotions Molly. I avoid them but... there have been times.”

 

Molly studied him for a moment. “I'm sorry Sherlock. I was only teasing.”

 

His thoughts had taken a dark turn for a moment, he needed to get back to the matter at hand. “So, you... living here? What do you think?”

 

Molly cut her eyes up at him and bit her lip. “And you’re sure this is what you want?”

 

He nodded his head. “I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure. I have no intention of hurting you Molly Hooper.”

 

She snaked her arms around his naked torso. “Toby has made himself at home, it would be a shame to move him again.  And now my flat seems... well let's just say 'don't let the bedbugs bight' has lost all of its whimsical charm."

 

Sherlock snatched the towel off of her then picked her up bridal style as she squealed. He carried her back to the bedroom dropping her onto the bed then immediately attacked her neck with his mouth. He mumbled as he nibbled.

 

“What? Ah... what are you saying?” she asked as she held him close.

 

He leaned up and kissed her with all his might. “I said, thank God for bedbugs. Now I don't want to kill the little bastards, I feel like I owe them.”

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. As always I'd love to hear from you all!  
> Lil


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